


every day falls in line.

by winterwinterwinter



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 12:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwinterwinter/pseuds/winterwinterwinter
Summary: "hon?"





	every day falls in line.

**Author's Note:**

> break from the usual wrenchers fare. gloria burgle was definitely gay.

**1 AM.**

 

“hon?”

“sh-sh-shh,” gloria says as she eases herself into bed beside winnie.

“where were ya?”

“nowhere,” gloria says, snuggling up to winnie’s back. “had a dream.”

“dream, or nightmare?” winnie says, rolling over. gloria recoils, just a bit.

gloria stares at her, her pretty black eyes even darker in their shadowy bedroom. “just a dream this time,” she says. it’s true. the nightmares had slowed to a crawl ever since winnie had moved in, if gloria was being honest.

winnie gives her a look - _the_ look - but punctuates it with that _well, gee_ smile of hers before she rolls back over. gloria curls around her.

“what was it about?” gloria hears her, nearly whispering.

gloria chews on her lip. she isn’t gonna lie to winnie, no use in that, but she just needs a minute. the wispy memories of her dream slink back into the forefront of her mind. “nikki swango,” she finally says.

instantly, she feels winnie’s hand on her hand, where it rests on her huge, bulbous, beautiful stomach. it grounds gloria.

winnie says nothing, and that’s what gloria really appreciates about her. though she’ll chat up and down endlessly about everything and nothing, she knows what gloria needs to hear, and what she doesn’t.

winnie holds gloria’s hand, and they both fall asleep.

  
  


**8 AM.**

 

“hon?”

gloria looks up from her half-assed breakfast of scrambled eggs and a messy side of toast, teetering on the edge of too-brown. winnie’s standing in the doorway, looking perfect with her hair tangled and her body wrapped in a bathrobe. “nathan comin’ back this weekend or next weekend?” she says.

“oh,” gloria says. she twists in her seat, grabs at the notepad she keeps next to the landline. all that’s on it are dark, inky spirals - winnie has a tendency to doodle, when she’s on hold - and a handful of phone numbers. “i’m not sure.”

“s’fine,” winnie says, hefting herself into the chair across from gloria.

“uh, any reason you need to know?” gloria says.

winnie smiles. “not really,” she says. “just like to know, you know. so i can plan dinner.”

“you mean we’re not just living on pasta every night ‘til he comes back?” gloria says. winnie’s mouth drops open, and she reaches across the table to swat at gloria. gloria laughs, dropping her fork onto her plate with a clatter as she dodges winnie’s hand.

  
  


**11:30 AM.**

 

“hon?”

winnie’s voice comes crackling through the phone. gloria’s sitting there, at her desk, looking over the details of the varga-stussy case again, just like she always does over lunch. peeking out from under the file is that photograph of the fella that nikki swango had been in cahoots with, with the wild hair and grimace. a tupperware container of day-old salad sits by her elbow.

“yeah?” gloria says.

“when did we make the ultrasound appointment for?” winnie says. gloria can just see her, in her mind’s eye, cocking her head and pressing her brows together. she smiles, a little, despite where she finds herself.

gloria opens up her planner - a small, plain black book she keeps in her desk drawer. it’s all there - dentist, doctor, therapist, pediatrician, parent-teacher conferences. ron’s weekend, gloria’s weekend, soccer games.

“next week, win,” gloria says. “uh, wednesday. two.”

“thanks, hon,” winnie says. “workin’ hard or hardly workin’?”

“oh, you know,” gloria says. she smiles again. “you know.”

“hey - did you ever hear back from the sheriff in bemidji?” winnie says. asking after her work had always seemed like a step in a numbered list of instructions when ron had done it, back then. but the way winnie talked was so sincere all the time. you could hear it in her voice.

“sheriff solverson?” gloria says. “oh, yeah, a week ago. said it wasn’t her guy after all.”

“hm,” winnie says. “we might never know, huh?”

“no,” gloria says, pushing the file aside and scooting her lunch into the center of her desk. “no.”

“well, you know,” winnie says, “some things aren’t meant for knowin’.”

“i know, win,” gloria says. “i know.”

  
  


**2 PM.**

 

“mom?”

hearing nathan’s voice, even through her tinny phone speaker, always made gloria smile. she sat up straighter in her seat, still parked outside the station.

“hey there,” she says. “how was school?”

“school,” he says plainly. “midterms this week.”

“how’s that feelin’?”

he’s silent for a moment, and she imagines him shifting his eyes around, fidgeting in his place. “you know, i’m - i’m gonna do my best,” he says.

“oh, goes without sayin’, kid,” she says. “i know you.”

nathan clears his throat a little. “how’s winnie?” he says.

it’s impressive, how nathan’s taken to the situation. having it happen first with his dad and dale probably helped. gloria hadn’t been sure at all how to tell him. she waited nearly a week before she broached it at dinner one night, saying “nathan, i’m seeing someone.” without missing a beat, he said “is it officer lopez? you smile so much when she’s here.” and - as if she _needed_ any proof, she still had those awful stretch marks and the ugly scar to prove it - that had been just another moment, in a series of moments, where she had known, without a doubt, that nathan was her flesh and blood.

“she’s great,” gloria says. “countin’ down the days ‘til you get to meet your new sister?” and nathan - he’s a teenage boy and so she knows, rationally, that he’s not excited over a baby, not really - but he had always had a softness to him, a sensitivity, that set him apart. at least in gloria’s eyes.

she hears a crackly snuffle that must be a laugh, because she can clearly hear the smile on nathan’s face when he says “sure, mom.”

  
  


**6 PM.**

 

“hon?”

“yeah, win?”

“you almost home?”

“um - in, i guess, fifteen more minutes.”

“can you, oh - can you pick something up for dinner?”

“what happened this time?”

“well. let’s spare me the embarrassment and just say i tried somethin’ new, but we’re out of pasta and we’re out of sauce so now i need you to pick up something.”

“alright, hon.”

  
  


**9:30 PM.**

 

“hon?”

gloria hums. “mm?” she says, eyes still lingering on the television for a moment. it’s a commercial break.

“your dream,” winnie says, “how was nikki?”

gloria purses her lips. she conjures the image from her dream, nikki swango sitting on a porch. ray stussy walking through a door, carrying a crying baby. he looks panicked, but nikki just smiles and holds out her hands.

“they have a baby now,” gloria says. “they looked happy.”

winnie pulls back from her snug little hiding spot under gloria’s chin. “really now?” she says. her hair, dark and loose and long and everywhere, falls over her shoulders. she palms at the swell of her belly, just barely hidden by her minnesota wild t-shirt, the snarling logo stretching down over it. she cocks an eyebrow. “a baby?”

gloria chuckles. “really,” she said.

the commercial break is over, but winnie keeps talking. “did you catch a name?” she says.

“they never talk,” gloria says. “or, um. their mouths move, sometimes, but i can’t hear ‘em.”

“bet it was a girl,” winnie says, her eyes going all dreamy like they do every time she talks about babies. “named somethin’ regal. you know? like, oh, anastasia. or - cecelia.”

“ruby,” gloria says, a sudden clarity washing over her. “ruby.”

“ruby,” winnie says, a dopey little smile on her face. “ruby’s sweet.”

gloria smiles, small and to herself, as winnie settles back down under her chin. howie mandel is trying to goad a contestant into taking a deal, but the young lady isn’t having it. her hair is brown, and cut in a shaggy bob. the audience laughs, but she rolls her eyes at him.  


  
  


**11 PM.**

 

the burgle-lopez house is quiet, because gloria burgle and winnie lopez are asleep, and everything is perfect.


End file.
